


intercepted transmissions jam trams in broken ghost towns - we are alive.

by Atomograd



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atomograd/pseuds/Atomograd
Summary: Karkat's having a hard time. Dave's having a hard time with Karkat having a hard time.[Ah yes now there's something better for everyone to kudos instead of my old fics. Let Me Rest]-Something's wrong, when you regret things that haven't happened yet.But it's a glorious day when morning comes, without the feeling of alarm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Terribly vague post apocalypse AU in the background. This is mostly contained in a single, few room area that's never really expanded upon. I honestly just. Needed something not as shamefully old and dusty for folks to kudos if they're going to keep liking my old things. I have no idea if I'll ever write anything more of this?? I'm not very good at plots

He starts sitting at the desk until he comes to bed with sunburn.  
  
The damn thing is as obnoxious as his roommate could get, the bubble gum blue glass top a sweeping curve that vaguely resembled the Andromeda Ascendant in how dramatic an enclosure it created. The crossed support beams used to be a matching matte pink, the out of place retro look endearing Dave to it instantly. In a fit and with more apologies than he could coherently express afterwards, Karkat painted them black.  
  
He starts having a lot of episodes like this. Most of them end in Karkat back at that desk, furiously typing so impassioned Dave wonders if his keys have been specially modified by friends he's not allowed to mention anymore. Other times, he imagines that's all Karkat _can_ think about, his anguish breeding a writer's block that keeps him up and makes him forget to fully shut the blinds until the flush of his exposed wrist draws out more memories and he hardly keeps on his feet long enough to dart from the well worn chair to the black out curtains. He doesn't always realise Dave's curled up on the obnoxious floral loveseat, watching him through sleep mused bangs and hardly having to struggle to stay awake.  
  
Insomnia was a monster Dave knew how to coexist with. Paranoia was not.  
  
-  
  
For a month, neither of them directly discuss what Karkat is doing. Out of impulse, finally, Dave gets up off the loveseat and drags himself to Karkat with full intent to collapse upon the floor and lay in his lap. The second he reaches the edge of the desk Karkat snaps his computer shut and refuses to make eye contact, the loud click enough to make both of them wince.  
  
"I'm coping. I'm trying, okay? This is all I can do," his tone is defensive and verging on accusatory. The laptop is pulled closer to him minutely, his hands trembling on the ridiculous stickers he didn't have the heart to remove. Or the will to. No matter how many he painstakingly peeled off, there would be more; it used to be a game. Dave nods slowly and doesn't know if he should start having the intervention talk or be supportive, or was intervention supportive? Maybe support was intervention. Maybe he just had to realise he was making it worse for himself, because they both knew Karkat knew how concerning this was, how much it was affecting his daily life, and if he thought he convinced a Strider to enable him it may wake him the fuck up and he'd come back to bed instead of acting like a starving vampire, only instead of blood he writes and instead of starving he tries to finish writing-  
  
"I can move out."  
  
Dave's brain stalls out. He short circuits and scratches the back of his neck, trying to comprehend a world where he never had the opportunity to lead Karkat to the kitchen, wrestle with him over their favourite coffee cups, end up using each others anyway, and go watch a movie until one of them passed out and curled up on the other. Karkat used to always win in that department, but just getting him to the kitchen at all was a challenge recently. His brain came back online while he cleared his throat and tried to speak for the first time in days without his voice cracking.  
  
"No," his voice cracks. ' _You're how_ I _cope_ ,' he wants to say.

He doesn't.

"If I make you breakfast when you can't sleep will you actually eat it? Might not be edible, though. Game of chance, testing your reflexes."  
  
Watching Karkat's face soften and his shoulders slump, he almost wants to collapse on the floor anyway. He wants to tear his hair out. He wants Karkat to tear his hair out for him. Karkat shakes his head and wearily stands, eyes downcast when he reaches out over the desk. Nearly afraid he's going to dislocate his shoulder, Dave grasps his arm and helps him get the momentum he needs to hop and slide over the sheerfaced desk. Luckily, he still has enough muscle to stay in one piece and of course he does, he's not as physically ill as he looks.  
  
Karkat's just scared, he tells himself, trying to pretend he's not scared, too.  
  
They get through three cups of coffee between the two of them and Karkat falls asleep in the middle of his second. Seven months ago, Dave convinced him to finally indulge in the sickly saccharine and heavily creamed coffee he drank too much. In the course of a month Karkat was too concerned about the integrity of the milk again to take his coffee anything but black. He checked locks multiple times and lingered there, gnawing his second knuckles while debating whether he wanted to ask Dave for more locks or not.  
  
-  
  
They fight.  
  
It takes two months, but Karkat cracks under his own pressure and his mind starts eroding away all the trust between them.  
  
He doesn't feel safe anymore, he says. He hasn't felt safe his entire life- except very specific times, don't throw those in his face like they're not real, but they were all so fleeting and he's tired of feeling like he needs to be afraid. Dave can understand this, but he can't immediately understand why Karkat's so angry when he says so and asks if there's anything he can do.  
  
"Don't. Just, don't. Don't fucking treat me like a child; this shit is serious. We have no idea what's out there, who was left alive." He's not wrong.  
  
"You want to go look?" The horror on Karkat's face makes Dave want to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness. He takes everything the wrong way, but Dave's too tired to be as mindful as he should be. "We can go. Maybe we'll find someone. There's still life out there, man, we know it. We've got plenty of everything except contingency plans-"  
  
" _Dave_." He's tired, almost suddenly, a hand roughly rubbing his eyes. Dave wonders if he's thinking about the last time he saw Kanaya or watching Sollux be torn apart. He wonders if he lied when he said Gamzee managed to hold him back, but all he knows for sure is that was one of the last times they saw each other and Karkat was convinced he was out there. Dave could never figure out if that was a good thing or not.  
  
-  
  
With the sudden realisation he missed the way things used to be, Dave became aware of his own loneliness. He had to scavange alone, only leaving when Karkat was fully awake and wouldn't be close to breaking down in solitude. It lit the reality of the destruction around them in a stark clarity; gone were the mornings of Karkat subtly pressing closer until he could leech his warmth, watching him experiment with all the cosmetics they found - sometimes on himself out of curiosity, but mostly to try and summon what little chemistry he recalled from times spent listening to Eridan or Aradia.  
  
_"The most effective teaching method they developed,"_ he'd told him one day, _"was to bicker in as much brain-fucking detail as possible."_  
  
Every shadow was a ghost or worse.  
  
Dave was starting to see them too.


End file.
